


two slow dancers

by amadeusofnohr



Series: FEmslash February 2019 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Plotless, Pre-Femslash, Pre-Relationship, dance lessons, including both spellings just in case, mostly ayra being a lesbian, takes place between Ch 2 and 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17676980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadeusofnohr/pseuds/amadeusofnohr
Summary: It would be easy to dismiss Silvia as nothing more than an air-headed girl with a pretty face, thanks to her swishing hair and bright, gaudy outfits, and her bubbly demeanor. But Ayra’s eyes have always been sharp, a necessity for reading opponents and for the precision of wielding a sword in the Isaachian style, and she knows it isn’t that simple.Or, Ayra ponders (and admires) Silvia.(prompt: sharp)





	two slow dancers

It would be easy to dismiss Silvia as nothing more than an air-headed girl with a pretty face, thanks to her swishing hair and bright, gaudy outfits, and her bubbly demeanor. But Ayra’s eyes have always been sharp, a necessity for reading opponents and for the precision of wielding a sword in the Isaachian style, and she knows it isn’t that simple.

She can’t help but track the movements of Silvia’s feet as she dances, on and off the battlefield, the intricate patterns they step in. The moves wouldn’t be out of place in some of Ayra’s more complicated maneuvers. It’s unlike anything she’s seen before, and she can only assume Silvia came up with most of her moves on her own. No mere air-head could have the breadth of routines Silvia does, the memory to perfectly recall each one as needed, the grace she has when she performs.

She’s seen Silvia dance for crowds in the streets of Agustria for coin, and those times are when her steps are the most practiced. Sometimes, if a crowd is particularly hard to please, she’ll pull out a handful of small daggers, dangerous and glistening, and juggle them.

Other times, Ayra’s spotted her performing for free, and her movements are much more open and flowing, an appeal to the unhappy faces of the district Sigurd’s army has been occupying.

On the battlefield, Silvia’s face hardens, and every twist of her body seems to have more power, more force of will, behind it, whether she’s refreshing an exhausted soldier or dodging an axe before digging her sword into someone’s stomach.

But, she seldom sees Silvia dance without an audience. Sometimes Silvia invites her to train with her, and she gets a glimpse of what it could be. It’s hypnotic, and entirely removed from the rest of her style. So much so, in fact, that she can’t help but comment on it when she sees it, from the corner of her eye and she practices swinging her blade while Silvia twirls on the other side of the training field.

Silvia pauses, eyebrows crinkling briefly, before sashaying closer to Ayra, her hair bouncing.

“Someone’s been paying attention,” she catches a stray strand of hair with a finger, tugging at it idly. “It’s different when I’m just doing it for me. Much more fun.”

Ayra cocks her head, sliding her sword into its sheath as Silvia approaches.

“Is it not always fun?” She had assumed that was why Silvia had chosen it for a profession, and that part of why she was so cheery was from constantly doing something she loved.

“I mean, I  _ like _ doing it, otherwise I would quit, y’know? But it’s easier when I don’t have to think about what people want to see. Like, isn’t swordplay a lot more fun when you’re not fighting to the death? More freeing?”

Ayra looks down at her sword, a little unsettled. She’s been trained to use a blade since birth, but not for  _ fun _ . It’s a way to fulfill her duties, to uphold her honor as a warrior, to ensure that when she makes a promise she keeps it. To say it brings her something as whimsical as joy would be almost sacrilegious.

“No.” She says, perhaps too harshly, judging from the way Silvia looks a little hurt. “It is more a way of life, fun or not, than it is a passion.” Her blade is her word, as it is for anyone from Isaach. But she is a long way from Isaach, and though the people here dedicate their lives to fighting too, it is not quite the same, and that difference is oft forgotten.

But Silvia just nods, accepting her curt explanation, face softening. Ayra knows she can be blunt, and she hopes she hasn’t prematurely ended their conversation.

“What  _ do  _ you do for fun, then?” she asks, and Ayra once again finds herself at a loss for words. There’s nothing wrong with having hobbies, but it’s not something she’s ever sought out for herself. There has always been more pressing matters, a sword to sharpen or a move to practice or a lesson to attend. Silvia catches on, of course, and fills the silence.

“No wonder your face always looks so sour!”

Ayra scowls.

“Yeah! Just like that!” Silvia giggles, covering her mouth with a hand, her orange nails glinting as they catch light. She rises to her tiptoes to press a finger against Ayra’s forehead. “I’m just kidding! Lighten up, or those wrinkles will stick. Your face is plenty handsome, don’t you worry.”

Ayra huffs, face growing hot.

“Perhaps I would find some fun in chasing you down for that,” she threatens, miming a grab for her sword. Silvia snatches her hand from the air, eyes bright.

“I have a better idea. You should try dancing! You’d be good at it.”

Ayra attempts to tug her hand away, but Silvia doesn’t let go.

“Just this once,” she relents, because she suspects she will soon find herself with two left feet, and it would be unseemly to expose Silvia to that for too long.

“Just follow my lead. And watch out for my toes.”

Silvia places Ayra’s hand on her shoulder, and grabs the other one lightly, intertwining their fingers. She can feel blood rushing to her face from the close proximity.

Ayra feels oddly clumsy, compared to how confident she is when wielding a weapon. Instead of comforting metal she has in her hands another human being, fragile and solid all at once.

She does her best to follow along, and Silvia even starts humming a mindless tune to match their steps to. Just as she thought, there’s a satisfying rhythm to it, and even having a partner is reminiscent of the elegant spars she used to have back in Isaach, though she’s trusted none here to be familiar enough with her style of swordsmanship to avoid injury in that kind of duel.

Silvia leads her into a twirl that Ayra has to duck to accommodate, narrowly avoiding smacking her face into Silvia’s arm. Silvia’s face is scrunched with concentration, and her touch is warm. Their feet stamp into the dirt as they trade steps back and forth, not always in-time with the provided tune. The fading light of the sun casts shadows onto Silvia, seeming to highlight her features.

The experience doesn’t bring to her an unbridled passion, but it does fill her with a feeling of contentment, an urge to just keep doing this forever, with her and Silvia as the only two people in the world, and to her, that’s close enough to joy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing for fe4 and these characters, so constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
